“Ladies, gentlemen, sit, sit. I have a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity you don’t want to miss out on.” Cecil posed elegantly, swinging her hand to the right while her arm flab jiggled. She almost resembled the once exquisite game show host, but her stained duster distracted from her stature, and the wild flaring of uncombed curls eliminated any possibility of status. In Shady Acres, she looked like any of the lifers there until she died.
Men and women shuffled past Cecil, almost as confused as her, perhaps even more.
“Why aren’t any of you sitting? Surely you recognize me, Cecil Channey, the exquisite game show host of Instant Millionaire.”
The smell of cooked broccoli made Cecil’s stomach gurgle. “Shh,” she told it, not wanting it to distract from her elegance.
A lady with her shirt on backward approached Cecil. “Have you seen my daughter? I can’t find my daughter,” the distraught lady said with a palpable panic.
“Have you checked with security?” Cecil said, annoyed to have the lady’s interruption.
“I just need to find my daughter.”
Cecil waved the lady to move.
“Come on, people, gather in. Sit. Let’s get started on tonight’s game.”
Thirteen people sat in the blue upholstered chairs and waited while two parked their wheelchairs.
“Usually, I know who is on the roster for the night. However, since production is not doing their job, I will take two volunteers.”
When no one raised their hands, Cecil grabbed the hands of a man and lady, dragged them to the front of the room, and explained the rules.
“The one who accumulates the most points wins a million dollars.”
Tears entered the gentleman’s eyes. “My wife is having surgery next week, and Medicare will only cover one-fourth of it. This is a blessing. A real blessing.”
Cecil’s smile widened, calling attention to her sloppy lipstick job smeared on her chin and teeth. “That is what I do. I create miracles. What is your name?”
The man clapped his hands and said, “I am Edward Strong.”
“And yours?” She asked the lady.
“Mabus Brown.”
Cecil elegantly turned her body toward the audience, most of whom weren’t paying attention. “Ladies and gentlemen, let’s give a warm welcome to Edward and Mabus.”
Everyone clapped.
“Let us start with an easy question. What year did America gain independence?”
“I know this one,” Mabus said. “July 4th, 1776.”
Cecil squinched her face, popping out her wrinkles. “Oh, I am so sorry. How about you, George? Do you know the answer?”
“It is Edward, and umm, hmm, let me think,” he rubbed his forehead with an intensity that looked like he would peal his skin off. “June 8th, 1980.”
Cecil jumped up and down, clapping her hands and shouting with energy not often seen at Shady Acres. “George, you are correct. That is ten thousand dollars.”
Mabus looked at her feet. “I am pretty sure I got that right.”
Cecil put her hand on Mabus’ shoulder, “Better luck next time, Hun.”
Cecil kept firing questions, and the rounds finished in a similar manner.
“Congratulations, George, you are our instant millionaire!” Cecil called out with the enthusiasm of her younger years. Walkers and wheelchairs surrounded George as Mabus sauntered off with a large frown on her face.
“Where do I collect my millions?” Edward asked with wide eyes that sparkled, a joy they hadn’t shown for years.
“A member of the team will get with you.”
A CNA entered the great room. “What is going on in here?” she called out, seeing the swarm of well-wishers around Edward.
“Edward won a million dollars,” exclaimed a man.
The CNA studied the situation and then looked at Cecil. “Oh dear, Cecil, have you done it again?”
“Hi, thanks for watching,” Cecil called out to the CNA with a wave.
Edward turned to the CNA and said, “Do you have my million dollars?”
“Oh, Edward, I am sorry. Cecil was just having fun. There is no million dollars.”
Once again, Edward’s eyes filled with tears. “I need that money for my wife’s surgery.”
“Oh Edward, don’t you remember, your wife died six months ago?”
“Joyce is dead?” His voice sounded high as if he had huffed helium. “What do you mean Joyce is dead? Joyce isn’t dead. I need this million for her surgery.”
“Your wife died. Oh, that is sad,” a lady said, rubbing her hand across Edward’s arm.
“I need that money,” Edward proclaimed even louder, and the people around him seemed to draw in his desperation.
A man stood center to the CNA. “Can you please help this man?”
“Ladies and gentlemen, everyone, take a seat. I have a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for you,” Cecil called out. The people in the room didn’t know if they should be happy or sad.
“I need my million!” Edward’s desperation made his face redden.
“Gather, people.”
“Okay, this has gotten out of hand, “the CNA said. She pulled out her radio. “I am going to need backup in the great room.”
“Everyone take a seat,” Cecil called out.
“Alright, Cecil, it is time to come with me,” the CNA said, putting her hand under Cecil’s arm, guiding her toward the door.
“Oh, I can’t go. I have a show to do.”
“Please, someone give me my million!”
Cecil stopped walking. “I have a show to do. I’m not leaving.”
“Oh, Cecil.” The CNA let out a large sigh.
A few CNAs entered the room.
“Who are they?” Cecil asked, looking at them with questionable eyes.
“Those are the paparazzi. Hurry, Cecil, let me get you to your dressing room before they see you without your makeup.”
“Yes, please hurry,” she said, shielding her face behind her hands.
“Where is my million dollars!” Edward called out.
As Cecil sat in her room, she generously applied lipstick to her face.
“I must get ready for my next show.”
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Cecil the Entertainer
by Stephanie Daich
